


Many Trees from Other Lands

by DrDom



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Brief Mention of Suicide, Canon-Compliant, LGBT angst fluff and sex, M/M, Post-Cyberwoman, Series 1, Trans, janto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrDom/pseuds/DrDom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly three months after the terrible events of 'Cyberwoman', the arrival of an alien seems to threaten Jack and Ianto's new relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I'm telling you, it's in there,” said Owen, “and it's got _teeth_.”

Jack crouched down in the wet grass at the edge of the deserted playground. Beside him, Gwen shivered slightly as she kept her gun trained on the shadowy climbing frame.

“There!” Owen's voice hissed through the earpiece as a silver shape flashed down the fireman's pole and across the open space.

“Jack, no!”

Jack was on his feet and striding into the playground. Through the gloom he saw a silver oval just visible in a long black robe. The creature had reached the swings and was running pale tentacles over one seat, snuffling sharply. The oval split and Jack had a vision of teeth like daggers, before a horrible growling sound issued from its throat.

“What are you doing, Jack?” Gwen's voice was tight with apprehension in his earpiece.

Jack, hands spread wide, was approaching the creature slowly. It shuffled around the swing again, then there was a flurry of robes, and another long growl, this time strangely rhythmic.

Jack stepped closer. The creature was swinging, growling in time with the oscillation.

He began to laugh.

“Harkness, I swear, if this is a joke to you –” Owen began.

“It's all right,” Jack said. “It's having … well, fun. You know, I think it's a juvenile.”

Owen and Gwen joined Jack. They watched the nightmare creature swinging high into the air, tentacle raised, razor-edged teeth flashing joyfully at the stars.

“God, I hate kids,” Owen said.

“Ianto, are you reading this?” asked Jack.

“Loud and clear, sir,” the reply came into their earpieces. “I would suggest some sort of lure. Give it something to play with, and bring it back here to the Hub.”

It was Owen's new iPhone that eventually enticed the creature into the back of the SUV. They shut the boot on its growls of pleasure as it took photos of its feet.

They got into the SUV, and collectively slumped against the seats. 

“I thought we were all goners for sure,” said Gwen. “Those teeth!”

“Blades like a bloody surgical kit.” Owen grimaced. “I really don't fancy letting Doogie Howser M.D. back there get a clear run at me.”

“I'm at the Hub entrance,” Ianto said over the comms link. “Tosh has found some toys that might help.” 

“Great,” Jack replied. He started the SUV. “I knew an amazing surgeon on Rigel once,” he said as they bumped over the scrubland back to the road. “Four hands, eight digits on each, and opposable toes. I was under her for quite some time. Never did get round to having an operation.”

Gwen could almost feel Ianto blushing through the comms. 

“Anyone ever cut you up, Owen?”

“Piss off, Harkness, that's confidential.”

“Don't you already know?” Gwen asked Jack. “Didn't you go through our medical records when you recruited us?”

“Yeah, cos I'd really let him do that,” said Owen. “I'm the doctor around here, I'm the only one with access to those files.”

“I'm always being overruled by doctors,” Jack complained.

Ianto was waiting as the SUV parked outside the Hub. He was carrying a set of fairy lights and a handheld Arcturian probe.

They eventually got the creature out of the boot and down the lift, Jack vetoing the use of the probe as a toy. As they came through the door, Jack was laughing so hard at the sight of Ianto wreathing the alien in fairy lights that he missed his footing. He fell against him, sending the younger man sprawling with a splash into the water that filled the base of the Hub.

Gwen, Owen, and Tosh took the creature down to the cells as Jack helped a spluttering Ianto to his feet.

“Ianto, I'm sorry.” He looked down at his drenched form, his mouth twitching. “Maybe I should help you out of those wet clothes … ” With a grin, he took Ianto's damp face in his hands and began kissing him slowly, parting his lips, running his tongue over his teeth, probing deeper …

Ianto jerked himself out of Jack's arms, gave him what Jack could only describe as a glare, and walked away with soggy dignity.

 

***

 

It was Saturday night, and Jack had a problem.

The week had gone quite well, all things considered. The playful alien, dubbed 'Tinky Winky' by Owen, had spent four happy days in the cells, surrounded by everything bright and twinkling that Torchwood could provide. He had eventually been collected by his mother, a fearsome beast nearly three meters tall with silver mandibles and dagger-edged exosceletal spikes. They had handed over Tinky Winky (and the fairy lights he refused to relinquish) in the middle of the Plass at lunchtime on Friday. The mother had patted Jack gently on the head with a two-foot pincer, and they had retconned thirty-eight people.

Jack sighed, pushing away Tosh's weekly rift activity report. His problem was rather closer to home than aliens and the usual rift detritus. His problem was Ianto.

It was ten weeks since that terrible day when they discovered Ianto hiding a partially-converted Cyberman, formerly his girlfriend, in the basement. Ten weeks since Jack had kissed him back to life by the pool. Once the crisis was over, he had suspended Ianto from duty for four weeks. He did not abandon him: he took to dropping in with pizza on quiet evenings, keeping up a steady flow of chat as Ianto sat in silence, grief wrapped around him like blanket. Eventually, Ianto had resumed his duties, moving like a subdued shadow through the Hub.

When Jack had kissed Ianto in his office it had been an impulsive act. Jack had known since their first encounter that the young man attracted him at a deep level. Physically, he was gorgeous; especially in that suit, especially leaning over the desk to collect Jack's coffee mug … That evening, three weeks after Ianto's return to duty, Jack had been struck by just how sad he looked. He had stepped close to Ianto, enfolding him in his arms. Ianto had frozen, then grasped Jack so tightly he could hardly breathe. Their lips met with the inevitable pull of a gravitational field, and the kiss had lasted long, blissful, minutes. Jack's hands trailed over Ianto's body, feeling the firmness of his chest pressing into his own, then diving to Ianto's belt and working their way up under his shirt. He ran his hands over the skin of his back, warm and muscled and heaving, while Ianto drew leisurely fingers through Jack's hair, all the while kissing with the same slow, intense, passion.

Ianto had never kissed a man before. In the days that followed, Jack let him call the shots, never pushing him, trying to make him feel safe, pausing the moment Ianto seemed uncomfortable. Normally Jack would have got bored of such a slow pace, but something kept him with Ianto. He felt he could never get enough of his kisses. Sometimes he ached with the desire to strip Ianto bare and show him how he could feel; but the desire not to hurt or push him was far stronger. When Ianto eventually let him take off his shirt he wanted to sing as he planted hot, wet, kisses on his naked shoulders, then deep under the neckline of his vest.

And now all this week Ianto had been avoiding him. Ever since his ducking in the Hub pool, Ianto had immediately found an excuse to leave the room if he was alone with Jack. The muttered “I'm fine, sir,” when Jack had finally cornered him had done nothing to allay his concerns.

Footsteps drew Jack out of his thoughts. Ianto entered his office carrying a duster, stopping abruptly when he saw Jack.

“I thought you'd gone for that drink with Tosh and Owen,” he said.

“Not even I'm that tactless,” Jack smiled.

Ianto hesitated, the duster twisting between his fingers.

“Ianto.” Jack stepped around the desk. He drew Ianto in, watching the flush on his cheeks as Jack broke the invisible barrier of his personal space. Jack ran a hand over his lips, feeling the breath that came out in short gasps. He took hold of his shoulders and Ianto closed his eyes, breathing in Jack's presence, his body vibrating like a violin string on a soundboard. Jack felt happiness flood his veins: Ianto wanted this. 

The kiss was deep, slow, and long. Jack could taste unhappiness in Ianto and longed to drive it away. He pressed a hand to his neck, warm and strong. Then he stopped: Ianto had closed his lips, drawing away from Jack firmly, but with obvious reluctance.

“What is it?” he asked, gently. The pain on Ianto's face felt like a dagger in his chest: Ianto was pushing him away as if tearing out a part of himself. Longing, hurt, and something like fear swam in Ianto's eyes, and Jack reached out to him again. He turned and ran from the room. Seconds later, Jack heard the alarm as the main door opened, then silence as he was alone again.

 

***

 

Jack was not one to let matters rest in this unsatisfactory state. Sunday was, unusually, extremely quiet; as a consequence, Jack was alone in the Hub all day. By the time Monday came, he was determined to get to the bottom of Ianto's behaviour.

Was Ianto hiding something dangerous from them again? As much as Jack didn't want to believe it, he would have to check. If not, was it something he, Jack, had done? No matter how attached to his suits Ianto was, he was surely not still angry about his impromptu ducking. More worryingly, was it a change of heart about the two of them; or, perhaps, a realisation of the consequences? Jack had been with enough male partners over his years on Earth to see first-hand the terrible torturing pain of having what was most good and truthful in one's life branded obscene. Alone at his desk, late on Sunday evening, Jack remembered Barney. Nineteen, tall, dark-haired, wearing the jumper his mother had knitted him; curious, cautious, and capable of extraordinary passion. He had killed himself in June 1967, a month before decriminalisation, convinced nothing would ever change.

Jack's jaw clenched. If someone was making Ianto feel like that, he would personally use every bit of gear Torchwood owned to make their life hell. And if the feeling came from Ianto himself, well – either way, Jack would be there for him.

His chance came when Gwen and Owen left the Hub for lunch. Tosh remained behind at her desk, fathoms-deep in computer code and deaf to everything else. Jack sauntered down to the archives as soon as the Hub was quiet.

Ianto was cataloguing a set of decades-old files into a handheld device. Jack watched him, unnoticed. There was a sadness in his actions, as if every movement hurt.

“You know, I've never had library sex,” Jack said, conversationally. “Archive sex would be basically the same thing, right?”

Ianto froze. This worried Jack: his usual response to being flirted with ranged from the tolerantly amused to a particularly cute startled-rabbit impression. Not this.

“What's wrong?” He leaned close to Ianto. “Talk to me. And if you say 'nothing', I'll have you on weevil duty for a week for lying to the boss.”

Ianto swallowed, adam's apple bobbing frantically.

“I don't – ” he began, but Jack raised a warning eyebrow. “I thought … I thought you knew.” He looked down at his feet.

“Knew what?” 

Ianto looked sorry he'd spoken. “Nothing, it's noth– ” 

“Knew what, Ianto?”

“In the car,” Ianto said, reluctantly. “Last week. Tinky Winky. You said … but I thought you … ”

“What did you think I knew, Ianto?”

“Jack, I've got something you should see.” Tosh's voice over the intercom nearly made Jack swear in frustration.

“I'll be up in five,” he said, curtly.

“I'm sorry, Jack, I think this is urgent. We've got rift activity right now in three separate locations across the city.”

This time Jack really did swear. He dropped a hand onto Ianto's shoulder; the younger man glanced up with eyes full of misery. 

“On my way,” Jack said.

 

***

 

“What I love about this job,” said Owen, “is the glamour.”

He took a sip of the tepid liquid in the polystyrene mug on the dashboard. Rain trickled down the windows of the SUV, almost obscuring the view of the long-abandoned warehouse. Jack doodled a number on his half-completed sudoku, then threw it into the back seat.

“Tosh, talk to me,” he said into his comms. “What are those energy readings up to?”

“The same as last time you asked,” Tosh replied. “Energy density in all three areas is still increasing, but slowly. The readings Gwen took at the Splott site are minimal, and the one by the bay here won't be active for at least 36 hours at this rate. Where you are is going to reach the rift-critical threshold first.”

“Great,” said Owen. “We're waiting for a rift in space and time to break open, discharging god knows what unmentionable creature, and we're just sitting here scratching our bollocks.”

“Got a better idea?” 

“Course not.”

Jack leaned back in the driver's seat. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Ianto again before racing out to the docks. Ianto had seemed afraid of him as he left; their conversation began to replay, once more, in Jack's head. “I thought you knew” – “last week” – “in the car”.

He muted their comms and turned to Owen. “Do you remember last week, when we had your friend Tinky Winky in the back here; what did we talk about? Other than the obvious?” 

“What did we _talk_ about? What am I, your dictaphone?”

“Ianto said – ” Jack paused. “Look, help me out here, someone said something that's got him riled, and I think it was then.”

“You had a fight?” Owen grinned. Jack resisted the urge to shove him out into the rain. “Well, there was that multi-talented doctor, bet he loved to hear about that; then I let him know you weren't God cos you didn't get to see everyone's medical records and – ”

“Owen, you're a genius!” Jack yelled. That had to be it: something in Ianto's records that he thought Jack knew! Jack logged onto the SUV computer and was about to open the medical database when a hand reached over, covering the keyboard.

“If you try to access that file I will walk,” Owen said, flatly. “I will resign, and you won't even need to retcon me cos I'll do it myself.”

“You're very 'medical ethics' all of a sudden.”

“For God's sake, Jack.” Owen was contemptuous. “If you and teaboy had a lovers' tiff, try, you know, _asking_ him what's bloody wrong. God, even I talk to my casual shags sometimes.”

“Don't pretend to know – ” Jack began, when the warehouse beside them exploded.

“Jack!” Tosh yelled in his ear. “Energy levels just spiked! It's gone critical where you are: you have a rift incursion.”

Jack watched a chunk of iron girder land six inches from the SUV. He unmuted the comms. “We kind of noticed.” He pulled out his pistol and nodded to Owen. “We're going in.”

 

***

 

Jack and Owen picked their way through the piles of smoking debris that had been the front of the warehouse. The rain was still falling, obscuring their vision.

“There's a massive energy reading five meters ahead of you,” Gwen reported over the comms. Jack gripped his pistol tighter; he could hear Owen's breathing shallow beside him. 

An avalanche of bricks made them jump back, then a roof-beam was flung aside.

“Bloody hell,” Owen muttered in Jack's ear.

The thing unfolded like the Angel of Death. It loomed above them, well over three meters tall, wrapped in a black shroud that blew in the wind. Beneath the tattered hood, they could see a silver skull, grossly distorted.

“It matches nothing in our alien database.” Gwen's voice was unsteady in Jack's earpiece.

The creature threw a girder out of the way like a matchstick. Jack and Owen circled it cautiously.

“Who are you, and what's your business on this planet?” Jack called. The skull swivelled in his direction, and blue fire spat from under the hood. Jack and Owen dived for cover as the bricks next to them exploded.

“Oh my God.” Owen pointed. A jet of blue light had shot out of the end of a black-draped arm, and now formed itself into the image of a tall figure.

A human figure. 

Ianto.

Jack swallowed twice. It was a perfect image, down to Ianto's waistcoat. He thumbed his comms.

“Ianto, this thing has just produced your picture. Do you think it's after an autograph?”

There was silence.

“It's giving us an echo-projected hologram of you, wearing that rather fetching grey suit with the lilac tie,” he continued. “If you have an explanation for this, I would really like to hear it.”

“I don't have any idea.” The bewilderment and terror in Ianto's voice were genuine. “Why does it want me?”

“Let's find out.” Jack stood up. “Hey, big guy, you're out of luck. He's not here.”

He flung himself to the ground as a jet of flame slammed into the place where he had been standing. The alien vanished.

“Jack!” It was Tosh, urgent over the comms. “Energy levels just went through the roof. We've got a rift incursion in progress in the bay; that thing is coming here!”

Jack was already running to the car. “Can you pinpoint it?”

“Ten meters above us, four to the side. Jack, it's right in the middle of the Plass.”

 

*******

 

The SUV screamed round the corner of the docks, lights blazing.

“Gwen, get onto the police, we need the whole area cordoned off _now_ ,” Jack ordered as he took the corner at high speed. “Tosh, get out and start evacuating the Plass. How many people do we have up there?”

“Not too many outside, but the cafes are full. Wait … there's a group of school children by the Millennium Centre. About a dozen.”

“Get them out of there, fast.”

“Jack, DCI Bevan's sending her team: five minutes,” Gwen said.

“Tosh, e.t.a. on the rift incursion?”

“It's past threshold – the alien could be here any second.”

“Gwen, tell Lowri to get her butt in gear if she wants any of the city still standing, then get up there with Tosh. Ianto – ”

“I can help Tosh with – ”

“You're on comms. We don't know why that thing is interested in you, and I want you to stay clear unless I tell you otherwise. Got that?”

“Sir.”

“All right, boys and girls, we need to clear this area.” In his earpiece, Jack heard Gwen taking charge in the Plass. “Let's move calmly back towards the road, quick as you c– ”

Jack felt the explosion as the SUV skidded to a halt. He threw himself out of the car, Owen behind him. A large fireball blossomed in the air from the direction of the Plass, and Jack could hear the screams.

“Tosh, Gwen, report.” Jack raced towards the open space.

“No casualties.” Gwen's voice was high. “Bloody big crater and a three-meter alien, but we've got the kids.”

Jack and Owen reached the Plass. The alien towered up in the centre, dust and debris settling around it from the explosion of its arrival. Tosh had her gun trained on the alien as Gwen tried to marshall the group of frightened children.

“Get them out of here!” Jack yelled, as Owen raced towards the group. Urged by Gwen and Tosh, the children began to run; then fire lanced past them and exploded into the pavement ahead.

Jack sprinted past the water tower towards the screaming group. Some of the children were on the floor; he flung himself in front of them, pistol pointing directly at the alien.

“Let them go,” Jack shouted. The creature shot a jet of fire straight past him. Blue light flickered, and the image of Ianto was standing on the pavement of the Plass.

He edged sideways, trying to draw the alien away from the children. “What do you want him for?” he called, pointing at the image of Ianto. As they turned, Jack caught movement in the corner of his eye from over by the water tower.

The real Ianto stood on the flagstone, invisible to everyone other than Jack behind the perception filter. Jack went cold. 

“Ianto, get back on that lift _now_ ,” he hissed into the comms. He was still moving, one eye on the alien, one on Ianto. Then he heard the scream.

A small boy had broken away from the group and made a dash for safety. The alien shot out an arm, and the boy jerked as if caught by an invisible cord.

Jack lunged forward but hit a barrier in thin air. Helpless, he watched the alien pick up the screaming boy and hold him high over the hard pavement. It shook the boy at the image of Ianto. The message was clear.

“Ianto, stay where you are,” Jack commanded through gritted teeth.

Still unseen by anyone else on the Plass, Ianto shook his head. Pain swam in his eyes. Jack had seen that look before: soldiers in the trenches, pilots in the air; the reckless courage spawned when too much had been lost.

“That's an order!” Jack shouted.

Ianto took out his earpiece and threw it into the water tower. As the alien raised the boy higher, he stepped out of the perception filter and into plain sight.

The roar outdid anything they had heard before. The alien dumped the boy on the ground, and Gwen dashed towards him. Jack found he could move; he sprinted over to Ianto, while Gwen and Tosh hustled the children away from the Plass, Owen covering them with his gun.

Jack reached Ianto just as the explosion hit.  


	2. Chapter 2

Jack's arms were around Ianto. They lay where the blast had thrown them. Ianto's eyes were closed. Jack could feel a dull pain in his leg, blood seeping into the fabric of his trousers. He would heal. In the distance he heard the wail of sirens and the shouts of the police rapid response team deploying around the Plass. Too late. It was all too late.

Ianto coughed, and stirred in his arms. Joy burst in Jack's chest as he helped him to his feet. He searched Ianto's face. Ianto gave him a nod: he was shaken, but uninjured.

“OK, you ugly piece of alien – ” Jack rounded on the creature. He activated his comms. “Owen, get some of Myfanwy's tranquillisers up here,” he ordered. “Gwen, raid the armoury, you'll find a rocket launcher. Tosh, tell me anything you can about this thing.” He raised his voice. “You are in violation of interstellar first contact protocol 159,” he called to the creature. “You have thirty seconds to leave this planet before we force you to comply.”

“Jack, I've got a match on the energy signature,” Tosh announced.

Jack nearly dropped his pistol: from behind the alien, another creature had emerged.

“Is that … ” Ianto began.

“ _Tinky Winky_?”

“Their signatures match in the delta region,” Tosh said, excited. “There's also an overlap with the creature who came to get him last week.”

“What the hell?” said Owen. “That thing's Tinky Winky's _dad_?”

Ianto came to stand beside Jack. Together, they advanced on the two aliens.

The larger alien gave a roar as they approached, and Tinky Winky seemed to huddle in on himself. The other creature tapped him smartly on the head, then jabbed an emphatic arm at Ianto. The small alien shuffled forwards, still looking downcast. With the shining orb of his head pointing to the ground, he held something out to Ianto.

It was the fairy lights.

Jack swallowed the laugh that threatened to escape him. Ianto was transfixed, staring at the alien and the fairy lights, apparently unable to believe what he was seeing. The large alien rapped Tinky Winky on the head again. He gave Ianto a tiny, apologetic, squeak. His father grunted in satisfaction, then turned his attention to Ianto.

Ianto reached out and took the fairy lights in a daze. They were Tosh's construction, each LED individually powered. Looking down at the dejected little alien, he unhooked one bulb from the string, holding it out.

The small creature was ecstatic as he took the light, holding it rapturously in a tentacle, dancing around Ianto in the centre of the Plass.

Jack was laughing now. Ianto shook himself like he was waking from a dream, a disbelieving smile creeping over his face. The large alien reached out an arm and slapped him on the back, then collected his child with a growl. Jack grabbed Ianto and started running; they had got half-way to the water tower when another explosion rocked the Plass. Steadying Ianto, Jack looked around.

The aliens were gone. Behind them, the debris from the craters smoked in the rain.

 

***

 

The Cardiff bombings were the main item on the News at Six that evening. Prompt action by police officer Lowri Bevan had prevented any casualties other than the bomber, who was identified from fingerprints as Patrick Macdonald, 47, who had vanished from his Glasgow home three years previously. A local boy, Kai Perkins, had briefly been taken hostage, before being rescued through the heroic actions of an unidentified passer-by. Kai stood in the glare of the television lights, giving a breathless account of how the bomber had held him up by his ankle. Speculation about the bomber's motives touched on the proximity to the Welsh parliament building, the deplorable state of mental health services, and historic Welsh-Scottish relations. By seven o'clock, a singer in America had accidentally ripped her skirt on live television, and media interest in the bombings began to subside.

“Looks like he wasn't targeting the Senedd, thank God,” Inspector Bevan said as she shook hands with Jack at seven-thirty. “Apparently he put something on that Twitter thing about taking out a Nandos. Said the chicken was terrible. Folk over there,” – she jerked her head at the restaurant – “had a lucky escape.” 

Jack carefully didn't smile until he was half-way across the Plass.

“Tosh, nice job on the fingerprints,” he called as he entered the Hub. “The match came up right away. And Lowri swallowed the Twitter story like a baby. Who did we use, in the end?”

“The mediaeval farmer who tried to disembowel Owen with a sickle then fell in the harbour,” Gwen supplied.

“We messed him up a bit, but I've put myself on the police rota to do the postmortem tomorrow," said Owen. “Even a Cardiff pathologist might notice he drowned rather than exploded.”

“Good work, everyone.”

Owen picked up the fairy lights from Tosh's desk. “What gets me,” he said, “is daddy alien blows up half of Cardiff just to get kid alien to return stuff he nicked. That's some pretty fucked up parenting there.”

Jack took the lights and dropped them into Tosh's hands. “See these are clear,” he said. “Gwen, get a trace on Lowri's phone, let's check she stays happy. Owen, make sure Mr Mediaeval Farmer's paperwork actually gets done this time, we don't want a repeat of the vanishing centurion.” He raised his voice. “Ianto!”

Ianto appeared at the railing above Owen.

“My office, now,” Jack said.

Ianto disappeared.

“Jack, he saved us from that thing,” Gwen said, gently. Jack did not reply.

Ianto faced Jack across the desk in his office, his expression wary.

“What the hell were you playing at?” Jack asked, without preamble.

“Well, I … ”

“I told you to stay out of the way,” Jack said. “You disobeyed me. We had no clue what that creature was or why it wanted you. You saw what it was capable of: you could've been giving it what it needed to destroy the city by walking into its arms.”

“But – ”

“You got lucky this time. We all got lucky, and no-one got hurt. But you put the team in danger, you put ordinary people in danger, and you acted without any thought for the consequences.”

“It was going to kill that boy; what was I supposed to do, let it?”

“We were dealing with it, we would have negotiated with the alien or brought it down.”

“But he could still have been hurt! No-one should do that for me. It's not … it's not worth it.”

Jack drew in a deep breath. “Ianto, listen to me,” he said. “I don't know what is going on with you, but this stops, right now. You don't get to do this job with three-quarters of your mind on other things and a death wish. That puts you and everyone around you in danger. I am not going to stand by and let you get killed on duty because you think your life is too messed up. So you'd better start talking right now, and tell me what the problem is.”

Ianto's eyes were swimming. “No,” he said.

“That was not a request, Ianto.”

Ianto pulled his gun from the waistband of his trousers. Jack looked at him sharply as he threw it down on the desk. His security pass followed.

Jack was incredulous. “You're going to resign rather than tell me what's wrong?”

“No, I'm going to resign rather than be forced to tell you.”

Their gazes locked: Jack furious, Ianto defiant. Then Ianto turned and marched towards the door.

“Please don't go.” Jack's voice was low, all the anger gone. “Ianto … I need you.”

Ianto let go of the door handle.

“Let's sort this out.” Jack walked over and took hold of his shoulders. “Whatever it is, let me help. Please.”

For a long moment, Ianto studied the door. Then he turned.

“OK,” he said.

***

 

Jack perched on the corner of his desk. Ianto was sitting upright in his chair with the air of a man facing a firing squad.

“I really did think you knew,” he began. “You got all my Torchwood records when I started.

“Are we talking about your medical records here?”

Ianto nodded.

“Like Owen said, I'm not at the pay-grade to see those.” Jack grinned at him, trying to release the tension in the younger man. “He reads them all, and flags up anything I need to know about. He said nothing to me about you. Actually told me to mind my own god-damned business when I wanted to see your file.”

Ianto looked suddenly overwhelmed. 

“And he's right,” Jack continued, “it isn't any of my business. But if you _do_ tell me, I promise you we'll deal with whatever it is together.”

Ianto gave him a sad, disbelieving, smile.

“Come on, Ianto,” Jack said, gently. “At least try me. What is it?”

Ianto swallowed hard. Jack found he was holding his breath.

“When I was little,” Ianto said, “they thought I was a girl. I mean … all the bits and pieces were there. I knew I was a boy, and my body was like a girl's. We started changing it after university. Hormones, surgery … ” He dropped his gaze. “When you … when we … well, I thought you knew.”

Jack let out his breath explosively. He certainly hadn't been expecting this. He looked at Ianto, several connections falling into place. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he suggested. He paused. “Was it always like this?”

Ianto nodded, his gaze fixed on the coral on Jack's desk. “My parents tried so hard to have two daughters.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “That's what you do, isn't it? Your kid looks like a girl so you put her in a dress. And when she wears trousers and plays with the boys you call her a freak. Because if you let it go on, she'll be bullied and have difficulties in life. You're doing it for her.”

He looked up at Jack. “It didn't work,” he said, simply. “Then when I got older, I realised I liked girls. I thought that was it, that was why I was different. My father didn't speak to me for a year after I said I was gay. Mum said she didn't approve, but I was still her daughter.”

Jack winced at Ianto's tone. Out in the Hub, he heard Gwen's voice calling a query and Tosh responding.

“My father died when I was at university,” Ianto went on, his voice quiet. “I wore a dress to his funeral, and mum was proud of me. I was trying really hard then. I got quite good at being a girl. But it was always pretending, like I was wearing costume. I thought all girls really felt like this, and you just had to put up with it. Wanting to be a guy was just wanting to be privileged.” He looked up, and for a shining moment his defensive mask slipped. “Then I thought – well, fuck that.”

Jack grinned. “So what happened?” he asked.

“I got the Torchwood London job,” Ianto replied. “Leaving Cardiff, the big city, all of that. I got a doctor's appointment before I got a flat. A guy called Tim gave me his GP's name; she put me straight onto the community mental health team. By the time I started work, I had the referral to Charing Cross. For five months' time. I might've been a bit … impatient. But when I got there, the consultant was great. I decided I'd get going with real life experience, and we'd start testosterone injections at the next appointment. So I talked to my line manager on Friday, got a haircut on Saturday, Tim gave me an old binder, and I turned up in a suit on Monday.” 

Ianto drew a deep breath. “All the aliens, Cybermen, the Rift … nothing's ever been as terrifying as that walk into the office.”

“I'll bet,” Jack said, with feeling.

“Everyone was … polite.” Ianto shrugged. “There are worse ways to be. At lunchtime a girl gave me a flyer for the joint Torchwood-MI6 trans support group. She was the local organiser.” His eyes suddenly flooded with tears. “Lisa … ”

Jack felt understanding like ice going through him. He reached out a hand to Ianto's shoulder.

“She went through so much.” Ianto's voice was thick with tears. “And she was always there for the rest of us. She'd finally got to where she wanted to be when … when they did that to her. Those creatures. I will never, ever, forgive them.”

Guilt hit Jack as he looked down at Ianto, head bowed in grief. He had been so caught up in his own demons from the Battle of Canary Wharf that he hadn't stopped to consider Ianto's that day they'd found Lisa in the Hub. Ianto's girlfriend, his confidante, his guide … she'd been everything to him, and Jack had killed her.

“I'm sorry, Ianto,” said Jack.

“I couldn't save her. I wasn't good enough.”

“That is not true.”

Ianto shook his head in despair. “I wasn't good enough for her, and I'm not good enough for you. I lied about her, and you'll think I lied about myself; and when I kissed you I betrayed her, and I thought you knew what I was but that was all wrong. Tell me I lied to you, I'm not what you wanted, I'm a freak, an imposter, a – ”

The rest of his sentence was drowned in Jack's kiss. Jack kissed him deliberately, hands firm around the back of his head, drawing him in. He tasted salt in his mouth, and didn't stop until it had dissolved.

Eventually, he drew back. Holding Ianto tightly, he looked into his eyes. “You didn't lie to me,” he said, “and you are not a freak.” Gently, he caressed Ianto's hair, pressing his lips to his forehead. Ianto pushed up his face, and they were kissing again, closely and intensely. Jack's hands were running over Ianto's shoulders, down his back. Their mouths became more urgent, tongues probing deeper. Ianto was panting. They broke the kiss, and Jack let out a deep noise that was almost a moan.

“Ianto Jones.” He held him close. “You are a fine man; and, believe me, my only interest in the contents of your pants is to get inside them.”

The look Ianto returned him scorched the air. Ianto kissed Jack hard, pushing him back onto the desk. His hands pressed into Jack's chest, pulling his braces off his shoulders, grasping the top button of his shirt …

“Tell me what you want, Ianto.”

When Ianto spoke, his voice was low, his expression intense. “I want to fuck you.”

Jack's pupils blew wide, his eyes dark with lust. “Yes,” he breathed. He straightened up, dropping a wink full of promise at Ianto. “Give me a minute,” he said. 


	3. Chapter 3

Jack bounded out of his office, a wide grin on his face. “How are we doing, people?” he called.

“Paperwork.” Owen held up a clipboard, his eyes still on the Solitaire game on his monitor.

“DCI Bevan's just had a meeting with the First Minister, and is now complaining that the coffee's terrible,” Gwen supplied.

“The rift's gone quiet,” said Tosh. “Even the Splott readings are zero. The fairy lights have a residual signature, but well within normal levels.”

“Excellent work, everyone.” Jack beamed around at them. “As a special reward for saving the city, go home. Go on, all of you.”

Gwen glanced at Jack's office where Ianto still sat; then she and Tosh exchanged the smile they normally reserved for internet pictures of cute puppies. Owen rolled his eyes.

Jack watched as the cogwheel slid back into place when they had gone. With a grin, he returned to his office.

Ianto looked up, nervousness flashing in his eyes. Without hesitation, Jack leaned down to kiss him. The kiss was slow and unhurried, probing into Ianto with all the time in the world. Ianto responded, exploring Jack, his tongue making wide sweeps of his teeth, teasing at his lips, breath warm and heavy in Jack's mouth.

After long, lazy, minutes, they parted. Ianto's eyes were heavy, his cheeks flushed. He leaned against the edge of the desk, Jack running soft hands down the outline of his body.

“So, do you want to talk me through what I'll find?” Jack asked. “Or shall we do it as a treasure hunt?”

Ianto choked.

“Hey, don't knock it,” Jack grinned. “I knew this Alurian once; turns out they have three types of genitalia and a prehensile – ”

“I'm not a bloody alien!”

“Don't be so prejudiced,” Jack smiled. His hands clasped Ianto's hips. “So, it's your call.”

The nervousness was back in Ianto's face. “I've had surgery … ” His hands waved in front of his chest. “There are scars. I didn't have an operation on, well, you know … ” – this time his hands jerked downwards – “but I've been taking testosterone for three years. Some things have … grown.”

Jack kissed him deeply, and felt him relax once more. “Anything else you want to tell me?” he asked. Ianto shook his head. Jack grinned, moving closer. “So … how do you want me?”

Given what Ianto had just said, he could think of five – no, six – and a half – ways this could go.

“I need to, um … ” Ianto got up. “The archives. Back in a minute.”

Jack blinked. That had not been one of them.

Ianto returned very shortly with a black, expensive-looking box. Jack's eyebrows shot up. “ _That_ was in the archives?” he asked.

Ianto blushed. “It was from that place on Castle Street. You remember. Rift parasites took over some of the, um, merchandise.”

Jack was not likely to forget. The sight of the owner being persued down the road by a large and possessed sex toy had kept him grinning for about a month.

“We took the rest of the stock for testing,” Ianto continued. “I archived it when he didn't want it back. Last I heard, he's now running a tea shop in Penarth.”

“Are you telling me,” Jack said slowly, “that we have the entire contents of a sex shop down in the basement?”

“It's all in the inventory,” Ianto replied, a hint of reproach in his voice.

Jack was grinning so broadly he thought his head might fall off.

Ianto rolled his eyes.

Jack reached his hands around Ianto's waist, pressing his lips to his cheek. Ianto leaned into him, his breathing beginning to quicken.

“I've used … ” Ianto held up the box, uncertainty tinging his voice. “But not with … not with a … ”

Jack gently took the box and laid it on the desk. “Trust me,” he breathed.

“Yes.”

When their mouths met this time, there was passion and urgency in the sucking, nipping, pulling, kiss. Jack caught at Ianto's lips as if he wanted to devour him, dipped briefly down to his neck in an action that made Ianto drag in a deep, gasping, breath. Ianto's hands were on Jack's chest; then an electric jolt ripped a groan from him as Ianto put a hand on the front of his trousers.

Still kissing as if they'd never be parted, still with Ianto's hand pushing into him, Jack pulled off his braces and ripped away his shirt. Ianto pushed his hands up, Jack's t-shirt coming up over his head. Reluctantly, they broke the kiss, and the t-shirt was quickly hurled into the corner of the room. Ianto moaned as he ran hands over Jack's naked torso, Jack's own hands busy with Ianto's tie.

Their shirts were soon pooled together on the floor, and Jack slid his tongue over Ianto's shoulders onto his neck. His searching hands found the bottom of Ianto's vest; he gave it a questioning tug.

Ianto grasped the back of his vest and ripped it over his head. It dropped, unheeded, to the floor. Jack leaned back, drinking in the glorious sight of Ianto's chest, slick with sweat, muscles heaving as he drew in ragged, deep, breaths.

“My God, Ianto … ” Jack breathed. He sent warm kisses over the skin, trailing his tongue over his nipples, sucking at his sternum. Ianto tensed as Jack's mouth moved over his pectoral muscles to the dark horizontal lines of his scars, one under each muscle. Jack ran his tongue over them, and Ianto shuddered with pleasure, his hands gripping Jack, a groan tearing from his throat.

Jack pulled Ianto to him, luxuriating in the feel of his skin against his own. Then he gasped as Ianto's hands slipped into the waistband of his trousers, fingers searching for the buttons. Warm hands pushed against his thighs as his trousers and pants dropped in a heap. He kicked them away, standing before Ianto completely naked, entirely erect, and unable to suppress a grin at the sight of Ianto's wide-eyed stare. He took hold of his hand and guided it towards his shaft. Ianto hesitated, then curled his fingers reverently around Jack. A fuse blew in Jack's brain, and for a second the only thing that existed was Ianto's hand on his cock. He came back to himself with a moan, burying his face in Ianto's neck.

He dropped his hands to Ianto's belt, fumbling with the buckle. As he found the clasp, he felt Ianto freeze. Jack immediately released the belt and drew him into a hug, hands firm beneath his shoulder blades. Ianto gripped him tightly, like a man drowning. Jack kissed his hair and held him.

After a few moments, Ianto pulled back; for a split second, Jack thought he was going to pull away entirely. Then Ianto's mouth sought his, and relief flooded into his kiss. Jack felt Ianto touch his arm, then both hands were in his own and were pulling them back to the belt. Jack deepened the kiss as he undid Ianto's trousers; the belt clattered as they dropped to the floor. Jack transferred his attention to Ianto's neck as he pushed at the waistband of his boxer shorts. Ianto shook himself and the pants were on the floor. Jack grasped his waist and guided him back until he was perched on the edge of the desk, then ran his eyes down the perfect body before him.

Ianto was breathing hard, his hands gripping Jack's buttocks. His clitoris, enlarged by the testosterone and escaping from its hood, was as long as Jack's thumb and now gloriously, magnificently, erect. Jack knew exactly what he was going to do with _that_. With a grin, he started to kiss down Ianto's torso, past his waist and over his hips. He started again at his knees, kissing up the inside of Ianto's muscular thighs. Ianto arched backwards against the desk, thrusting out at Jack, a groan rising from his mouth. Jack flicked his tongue against the top of his thighs, and was rewarded with an inarticulate cry of desire. He took Ianto's throbbing clitoris into his mouth; Ianto gave a yell, and thrust his hands into Jack's hair.

Jack took his time, teasing, sucking, flicking Ianto's member. Ianto was far beyond speech, convulsively gripping Jack's hair, crying out with every movement of Jack's mouth. Jack could feel him get closer, and he reached up a hand, thrusting a finger deep between Ianto's buttocks and into his hole. The cry that broke from Ianto contained profanities and desire and the determination that Jack was _not_ to stop doing that _ever_ … Jack slid his finger in deeper, swallowed around the hot member in his mouth, and Ianto came apart in his hands, his climax shaking through his whole body as he braced himself back against the desk, cries falling out him and into Jack's ears as the most precious things in the whole world.

 

***

 

Ianto was in Jack's arms, warm and heavy. Jack held him, listening to his breathing as he came back down to earth. He cast his eyes around the room. The desk underneath them was giving him various ideas, which he filed away for later.

“Ianto Jones.” Jack kissed his neck. “I want to take you – and your box of delights – to bed.”

Ianto's eyes were open, his pupils dilated. Jack led him gently across the room, the younger man moving as if stunned. Getting him down into the bunk gave Jack a few more ideas for future reference, but eventually they were both in the narrow space.

The kiss when it started was soft and heavy, pressing them down onto the bed. Jack surrounded Ianto, holding him, stroking his hair and his shoulders and his body, putting strong arms between him and the rest of the world. Jack ran a hand up between his thighs and a moan came from Ianto's throat, hands grasping tight on Jack's back. Then Jack felt his grip change; he gasped as Ianto's fingers brushed the tip of his cock. Ianto hesitated. Jack took his hand, guiding it along and down and …

The cry that tore out of Jack felt like the release of a watch-spring. He was arching backwards, mouth open, Ianto's hand warm on his cock. His whole body was one giant nerve running straight through Ianto's moving fingers. He surrendered to the sensation, only dimly aware of the moans coming from his mouth.

Ianto's mouth was on his, bringing him back to reality. Jack returned the deep kiss; then he was on his back, Ianto sitting over him. “Are you ready?” Jack asked

Ianto looked down at him, the box in his hands, desire tinged with trepidation in his gaze. He nodded. “Are you?” he asked, suddenly worried.

Jack's voice was low. “I'll show you how to make me ready.”

Ianto tore open the box. Jack craned to see inside. “Ianto Jones.” His voice shook. “Your cock is amazing.”

It was long and thick, the colour of mahogany, nestled into the black-silk lining of the box. Next to it was the harness, leather straps ending in bright steel buckles. Jack felt his pulse racing.

“I never thought I'd use an Allyn and Bridges,” Ianto said, in hushed tones. “So expensive. The material transmits sensations … all the way through. People say it's out of this world.” 

“Where do you think it came from?” Jack asked, smiling. “I owed Kirsty Allyn a favour a few years ago. I should have a word with her about pricing people out of the market.”

“I'm going to fuck you with alien tech?”

“Yep.”

“Bloody Torchwood.”

They were both still grinning as Jack pulled Ianto towards him. He plunged himself into the kiss, his only thought to get as far into him as possible, tongue probing his teeth, his tongue, into his throat. Ianto was with him, his mouth desperate in its desire to give back to Jack all he was receiving. His hands were on Jack, down his back, over his hips, then round and _just there_ …

Jack surfaced with a gasp to find Ianto had started to buckle himself into the harness. The sight of Ianto kneeling on the bed, the leather straps around his waist and thighs, added several new items to his mental list. Jack contented himself for now with running his hands up and down Ianto's legs, twining his fingers into the bottom of the harness. Ianto caught his breath with a moan, fingers slipping on the buckles. Jack leaned forward, his mouth reaching for the gap in the front of the harness, and –

“Oh God … ”

Jack could feel Ianto trying to finish buckling himself in, while he did his best to distract him. He sent his tongue running in long sweeps over Ianto's clitoris and labia, drawing groans, half-desire, half-frustration, from the young man. Finally, Ianto's hands were on him, and their lips met again. Still kissing Ianto, he reach out a hand to the side of the bed. Where was … ?

He grinned as his hand found the tube. Opening it by feel, he took one of Ianto's hands, liberally anointing his fingers with the contents. Ianto's eyes opened wide with surprise.

“Let me show you,” Jack breathed.

Ianto's eyes glittered. Still holding his gaze with his own, Jack guided Ianto's hand around and behind. He gave a gasp as Ianto's lube-laden finger touched his hole; then a long, low moan was pushed out of him as Ianto slid his finger deep inside.

The feel of Ianto's finger inside him, cool and long, sent shockwaves through Jack. Ianto rotated his hand, stretching out, and Jack swallowed a groan. “Two fingers,” he whispered.

Ianto's whole face was open, eyes glowing with the sensations he was giving and receiving. Jack felt another finger go in, then gasped as Ianto slowly pulled them apart.

Jack was writhing now, low moans coming from between his teeth. The long, slow, tortuously pleasurable process of stretching him out continued. Ianto's eyes burned dark, the astonishment of desire at what he was doing to Jack on his face.

“Now you,” Jack said, his voice unsteady. His breath hissed as Ianto withdrew his fingers. Jack held him as he clipped the prosthesis in place; it seemed the most important thing in the world not to let go. He grabbed a handful of lube and smeared it firmly over Ianto's cock.

“Oh my … ” Ianto's eyes blew wide at the sensation. Jack grinned: they were both going to have a _lot_ of fun here.

Jack was on his back, Ianto between his legs. He shifted as the tip of Ianto's cock brushed again his hole. Ianto hesitated, for an instant seeming unsure that Jack really meant him to continue.

Jack threw him up a wide grin of invitation. Ianto's face came alight, and he pushed.

The feel of Ianto inside him sent synapses short-circuiting throughout Jack's brain. Ianto slid deeper, slowly and deliberately burying himself inside. His breath was shallow, the new sensations pulsing into him. Jack held his gaze, his lips parted, short gasps panting out to mingle with Ianto's breath, a smile answering the question in Ianto's eyes. Then he was in; their lips met, and Ianto pulled himself back to give his first thrust deep inside.

Their cries came out together. Jack felt desire unleash in his stomach; it surged up to meet Ianto's next thrust. Jack's arms were on him, holding him, breathing in the smell of his sweat and his hair and everything that was indefinably Ianto. Another thrust and they moaned again, pleasure and need, Ianto turning dark eyes to Jack so intense that he felt he could drown. Jack kissed him, pulling on him, willing him to come into the world that Jack so wanted to show him. Ianto thrust again, and the look in his eyes burned into Jack. The only reality was their bodies and their desires, perfectly joined. Time past and time future no longer mattered; only the feel of Ianto inside him, anchoring him to the present.

Ianto's thrusts were becoming quicker as he responded to Jack and his own desire. They were moving together, bodies slick with sweat, hands sticky and pulling and everywhere. Jack kissed Ianto's heaving chest. Ianto slipped a hand downwards; finding Jack's member, he ran firm fingers along it. As Jack cried out, Ianto shifted his weight, the angle of his thrust changing to … there.

Need blazed through Jack as the yell ripped from him. He held Ianto as he moved, all his desire coursing into Jack. One final thrust and Ianto threw back his head as he came, ragged cries shaking from him. His hand contracted around Jack's cock, and the explosion of Jack's orgasm pulled up from his stomach and surged out. Thought was stripped away, the world suspended in the single hot pool of their climax. Jack heard himself call out Ianto's name; then Ianto was on top of him on the damp sheets, drawing shuddering breaths against his own chest. Jack held him, their breaths gasping out together.

“Even better,” Jack panted, “than catching a pterodactyl.”

Ianto's shaking laugh buried itself in his chest.

 

***

 

Jack felt himself drifting up from sleep. He was lying on his back, naked, uncovered, and entirely comfortable. A dip in the bed to one side told him that Ianto was sitting there; Jack could feel his gaze on him.

“Enjoying the view?” Jack opened one eye and grinned at Ianto. He blushed scarlet, looking away as Jack stretched out languidly on the bed.

“I'm going to, er … ” He jerked a hand in the direction of the office. Jack watched appreciatively as he climbed out of the bunk.

“I'm enjoying my view,” he called out. He could swear he saw Ianto's foot blush as it whisked out of sight.

Jack let out a laugh: he could never get bored of the Welsh sense of propriety. He lay back, considering the situation carefully. He now appeared to be in the fine position of having a bashful yet eminently responsive young man in his life. That opened up a whole heap of possibilities …

Jack was sitting on the corner of his desk, one leg hooked over the chair, when Ianto walked back into the office. The young man had found a t-shirt (Jack's) and some underpants (his own); Jack, however, was still comfortably naked. He watched with interest as the scarlet tide washed up Ianto's throat to his face again.

“You know, office sex is definitely growing on me,” he said.

Ianto looked at the clothing strewn around the floor. “You should put some pants on.”

“Sick of me already?”

“No; you just seem a little … cold.” Ianto's lips twitched.

Jack looked down at himself in a glance so brief that Ianto should _not_ have been able to see it. He certainly should not have been able to give that knowing smirk while he picked up the heap of Jack's trousers and pants from the floor.

“Want to come warm me up?” Jack had begun, when he realised that Ianto was standing stock still, holding his half-folded trousers.

“You're hurt.” Ianto's voice was constricted. He looked up, eyes flickering to Jack's leg. Jack swore silently: he'd cleaned most of the mess off his lower leg, but hadn't got round to changing his bloodied trousers.

“It's just a scratch.” He showed the partly-healed wound to Ianto, smiling. Six hours ago it had been a deep, jagged tear that cut through his muscle. Immortality was useful for something.

Ianto's eyes were huge. “Did that … ” He faltered as a thought struck him. “Was it because of me?”

“It's nothing,” Jack said, gently.

Ianto looked devastated.

Jack was across the floor, taking him by the arms; Ianto couldn't meet his eyes. Jack pulled him close, and Ianto buried his head in his shoulder, his arms around him as if no words of apology could ever be enough.

After long moments, Jack lifted Ianto's face to look at him. The momentary flash of apprehension in his eyes went through Jack like a knife. He held Ianto and kissed him, slowly, firmly, trying to kiss warmth and forgiveness and approval into the young man. Finally, the tension in him seemed to melt, and he was returning the kiss as if waking up from a nightmare.

Jack sat on the edge of the desk, Ianto leaning back against him. For a minute they rested in companionable silence. Jack saw the start of a smile curving on his lips, and wondered what he was thinking.

“Owen really wouldn't let you see my medical file?” Ianto asked, eventually.

“He was quite insistent,” Jack replied. “Lectured me on medical ethics and gave me relationship advice. You know, if you wanted to, I reckon you could make him very happy … ”

“Er, I'm not really up for – ”

“Here.” Jack's hand under the t-shirt found Ianto's scars. “He's still working on that Elstian first aid kit: thinks it can remove scar tissue. He's been sulking ever since I refused to let him try it on civilians.”

“He's _sure_ he knows how it works?”

“Kind of.” 

“Well … ” Ianto shrugged. “It wouldn't be the craziest thing I've done at Torchwood.”

Then suddenly, silently, Jack was at the point of decision. If he went forward he had no idea where they would end up. Not so much from this one choice, but what it would mean for the next one, and the next. The liminal moment stretched in front of him. It felt that this was where he spent his life: at the boundaries, on the threshold between one space and the next.

He made his decision.

“This was all easier back home,” he said, his tone deliberately light. “51st century sexual genetic reconfiguration: DNA syrup twice a day for two weeks. Damn stuff tasted like week-old sushi. My father gave me sweets to take the taste away.”

He felt Ianto go still in his arms. Jack realised he was holding his breath, waiting to see how he would respond. Slowly, Ianto pulled away and turned to face him. “How old were you?” he asked.

“Fourteen,” replied Jack. “Quite late. My mother liked having a girl; wanted me to grow out of it.” His mouth twitched into a grin. “It didn't work.”

Ianto stood, speechless, for a long moment; then the breath was knocked out of Jack as he surged forward to kiss him. Jack responded, their mouths searching for and finding the connection.

When they finally broke apart, Ianto's whole face was alight, as if a haze over him had been cleared away. Jack couldn't help smiling back at the grin, half-shy, half-triumphal, on the young man's face.

“Two weeks?” Ianto asked, wonder in his voice.

“More or less,” Jack replied. “My genetic makeup's a little different from yours, but the fundamental sex characteristics are the same. The first week changed my dominant chromosomes to XY. The second week I caught up on male puberty. Four years of spots and stroppiness, in a week.”

“Blimey. I thought doing it in two years was bad enough.”

There was a pause.

“Did you start picking fights?”

Jack grinned. “Oh yes, fighting.” He nudged Ianto. “Wanking?”

“God, yeah.”

They lapsed back into silence. Jack had Ianto in his arms again; on his desk, the coral glowed softly.

“That was simple genetic reconfiguration,” he said. “Basic human stuff. There are races out there – or there used to be – who could change their bodies completely. Regenerate when they were about to die.” He felt the longing, sharp in his stomach. “Time Lords. I knew one, once, a long time ago. Maybe he'll be a she next time I see her. Maybe he was before.”

Ianto's grip tightened on Jack's arms.

“We always think we're the only ones,” Jack smiled. He pressed his lips to Ianto's hair as a thought struck him. “Maybe that's the most important thing you can ever tell someone: you are not alone.”

Out in the Hub, the fairy lights shone like starlight in the warm darkness.

 

***

 

Later – much later – the darkness was the closeness of the bunk.

“Hey, Ianto.”

“Hmmmmh?”

“There's still the small matter of you disobeying my order and putting yourself in danger. Remind me to schedule time tomorrow to give you a stern talking-to.”

“Would twenty minutes be enough for sufficient chastisement?”

“Use that tone and you'd better make it thirty.”

“This afternoon, I was only doing what you'd do.”

“What I'd do?”

“Step up, put yourself on the line to save the city, that sort of thing.”

“I get to make those calls, Ianto. You don't.”

“We all follow your lead. I was thinking of getting a shipment of those bracelets for the team, actually. 'WWJD': What Would Jack Do?”

“Ianto Jones, I'm going to give you that stern talking-to _right now …_ ”

“… yes _sir …_ ”

 

**THE END**


End file.
